LOTR parodies and poetry
by Thran
Summary: All selections are some of my contributions to the Largest Tolkien Parody (www.stupidring.com) It's very silly and pointless, and I dare ya not to giggle at least a little. :)
1. Default Chapter

**Nimrodel**  
  
An Elven-maid there lived of old,  
With elder sisters two;  
Her shining hair in winter cold  
She vainly plaited true.  
  
A star she wore between the braids,  
A fur-lined cloak above  
Fair Nimrodel her sister-maids  
Did oft with envy move.  
  
Her sisters once upon her gazed  
As under tree she lay;  
They snickered long, noses upraised,  
And planned cruel tricks to play  
  
Beneath the golden mallorn tree  
By falls of Nimrodel  
The elder two crept quietly  
To toss her in the well!  
  
Where now the youngest is none know,  
In sunlight or in shade:   
For Nimrodel was banished so  
E'en while the prank was played.  
  
That dreadful day her elder kin  
While envy shook their hearts  
Each took an arm, and tossed her in  
The roaring river parts.  
  
A wind rose quickly from the deep  
And up the roaring fall  
Fair Nimrodel with anger steep  
Soared high with dreadful call.  
  
Her siblings trembled in their spot  
For now they saw, too late -  
Their little sister's wrath was wrought  
With power, and with hate.  
  
The river rose to meet her cry,  
And snatching up the two,  
It flung them down and tossed them high  
Their pranks all to redo.  
  
"Oh, mercy!" cried the soggy pair  
As helplessly they soared  
Around, around in frosty air -  
But Nimrodel was bored.  
  
Her eyes flashed brightly, fierce and fell,  
Like starlight dark and dank;  
She turned away to end the spell,  
And tarried on the bank.  
  
They shivered thrice and crawled to her,  
With fearful, trembling eyes.  
She raised a hand, doom to declare;  
A shriek rose in the skies!  
  
Their mother came with shrieks most fell  
And bold fist raised on high  
"What did I tell you, Nimrodel?!  
Get gone, come never nigh!"  
  
Protesting long, the elven-maid  
Did glare with visage fey.  
But mother's word was not unsaid;  
She fumed and stalked away.  
  
She traveled long: her deeds are now  
By bards sung in the sun.  
It is not here remembered how  
Or if her story's done.  
  
For where she wanders none can tell  
But all who follow, hark!  
Learn from the Lay of Nimrodel  
No fair one's wrath to spark.   
  
From the Stupid Ring Parody II.6.


	2. Adventures of Legolas

One - Meanwhile, in Northern Mirkwood . . .  
  
Legolas: What's that, Gollum? You want to go climb your tree again. Right. What is it with you and trees, anyway? Well, I guess no harm can come of it. Just don't get into any trouble, you hear me? Gollum? Gollum! Oh, bollocks. Galdir and Hallas, go watch him, will you? I don't know WHAT my father will say! *brood, brood*  
  
[Suddenly the shrieking cries of a small army of orcs are heard through the trees.]  
  
Legolas and the Elves of Mirkwood: *twang**thwack* *pffftpfffft* Aiyeee!!!!!  
  
Orcs: Argh!! *bleedbleed**diedie*  
  
[After an hour or so, the orcs are beaten off.]  
  
Legolas: Gollum? Hey, Smeagol, the orcs are gone, you can come out of your tree now! Smeagol! Hey, Mr. Smeagol! Galdir, Hallas, where have you gotten to?   
  
Tree: *silence*  
  
Legolas: Gollum, you twerp, what's the matter with you?!!!   
  
Tree: *more silence*  
  
Legolas: Oh, shit.  
  
***  
  
Two - Approaching Rivendell  
  
Legolas galloped bareback (the horses' back is bare, not Legolas', you pervy elf-fancier!) through the trees, searching for a sign that he was approaching the Last Homely House. The House of Elrond. The anticipation of seeing Rivendell again spurred him on more urgently than the message he carried. He had never fully understood why Mithrandir had charged his father's people with the care of that wretched twerp, Gollum. Even so, he was not looking forward to telling the kindly yet powerful wizard that their captive had escaped.  
  
Legolas' thick black hair (or was it brown? or blond?) streamed behind him in the wind without disturbing a single strand from his perfect plait. He thumped the stirrups against his horses' flanks . . .  
  
_Hey, wasn't I riding bareback just a second ago?_  
  
. . . as the Valley of Rivendell appeared suddenly through the trees ahead of him. He reined his horse . . .  
  
_Now I've got reins, too?!_  
  
. . . to a halt, staring in wonder at the magnificent miniature set - I mean ancient elven home - that lay before him.  
  
He pulled his long white knife from his belt and, dismounting quietly, crept aside as a plump white rabbit hopped out of a nearby shrub. Moving too quickly for mortal eyes to catch, he whipped the knife back and forward. As it flashed through the air towards the coney, he thought he glimpsed a bit of gold.   
  
_Gold?_  
  
He trotted, satisfied, towards his catch. Grabbing the coney by the ears, he grasped the golden handle of the long knife and pulled it out, wiping it clean on the grass. As he started to resheathe it, he stopped, freezing in shock, as he realized his belt sheath was suddenly missing. Instinctively Legolas felt at his back and found there not only the empty sheath, but next to it a second knife in its own sheath. Pulling the other knife out, he stared at his two new golden weapons, admiring the lovely elven scrollwork on the blades.   
  
_Ah. Peter Jackson's costume department has been fiddling with my props again. I've really got to talk to those people. Hey, *shrug* two knives are better than one, right?  
_  
Sweeping his hair aside (it was definitely blond, now), he resheathed the two knives on his back and carried the dead rabbit, a traditional guest gift for Lord Elrond, back to his horse. He remounted (the saddle was still there, unfortunately) and trotted on towards Rivendell. As he went on, he pondered again.  
  
_I'm just wondering one thing. Where did these boots come from?_


	3. Message and Lament

**A message from Galadriel  
**  
There now lives a Man from the West,  
Who grows too much hair on his chest.  
A dark door will he find  
That the Dead live behind;  
They'll follow him only if pressed.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
**Faramir's Lament **  
  
Oh Boromir, bro-mine,  
Where now has your horn got to?  
Where is your uni and where your pajamas?  
The ones with the little duckies all on them?  
  
O Boromir, bro-mine,  
When again will we wrestle?  
When again will you put salt in my tea?  
My tears are now the only salt for my tea.  
  
O Boromir, bro-mine,  
You could have been the Steward  
And pretended to be King just like Daddy did.  
But you had to go and get yourself slaughtered.  
Typical.  
------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
